


between the devil and the deep blue sea

by GxmerGurl



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Medical Trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Trans Male Character, Trans Waylon Park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GxmerGurl/pseuds/GxmerGurl
Summary: "Are you giving me a choice?" He's putting me between the devil and the deep blue sea, he thought. It's death either way.In an alternate universe, Waylon is saved by a man he knows. Realizing that they actually knew each other before the man went into the Engine, that they had a connection. Something that kept Waylon from running, but instead told him to save the man. To escape together. To make him human again.
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. Please be considerate that I am german, therefore English isn't my first language, and also, I am not trans. I just really wanted to write a story like this, and I hope you do enjoy it. Leave a kudos or comment if you do :)

Waylon couldn't remember when he started running. He knew that his feet hurt, and he was unable to feel his legs. His lungs were burning as his heart was trying hard to keep up with the murderous rhythm Waylon forced it to beat. 

He heard the screams of the variants behind himself and never dared to look over his shoulder. He heard them and their horrendous screams for his flesh. He had to get away. 

Waylon's mind went just around that. He had no time to think about where he was running, just hoping to escape. He ignored all pain he was feeling, just trying to keep his legs moving. Trying to save his own skin. He didn't even dare to imagine what would happen to him if they were to catch him.

Waylon vaulted over another table, loose papers flying off, and he dared to look over his shoulder. It was hard to make out in the dark, but he saw the men running after him. In their bloody hands, all sorts of makeshift weapons. He for sure did not want to end up at the receiving end of any of them.

He set off to sprint once more, looking around for anything. He threw himself against a door, stumbling out into a hallway. He kept himself from falling over with a wary hand, pushing himself off the wall. 

Just as he thought that he wouldn't be able to escape, as the first hopeless thoughts seemed to sink into his racing mind, he spotted an elevator shaft in the faint light ahead.

With his last strength, he pulled himself together and made a run for it, seeing a ladder and making for the jump. Before he could act, his camera fell out of his hand, and he watched it drop down onto the elevator, the lense shattering. He cursed to himself under his breath when he felt the ladder come loose from the wall. Everything seemed to just be against him.

He tried desperately to climb up when the metal under his sore feet gave out, and he fell. It felt like hours as time seemed to slow down. He only snapped back into reality when he felt the wood of the elevator penetrate his leg, trapping it, sending waves of pain through him, and he collided with the rough wood.

He yelled out in pain, his hands clasping at his bleeding leg, trying to pull it free. But it was no use, his muscles were spent, and he felt exhaustion burn in each and every one of them.

He blinked away tears and looked up to where the other inmates were waiting dangerously close to shoving each other off and down to Waylon. He would be dead. Maybe this was it. Maybe he was never supposed to escape Mount Massive. Ever since he signed his contract and NDA after NDA to keep his mouth shut, he signed his death certificate.

Maybe he should have listened to Lisa when she begged him not to take this job. But he had to, he always argued. They were in debt, and he had to work, knowing that his sister couldn't take care of it all by herself. And then, Lisa was also a mother. He had to help her out with her boys. Seeing as she gave up a lot and sacrificed everything for him, he had to repay her. But he never thought he would pay with his life.

He tried to pull on his leg again, hearing the wood splintering, but he gave up after more tears started forming in the corner of his eyes. That was when he heard steps. He tried to concentrate on them through the yelling and yapping he still heard from the patients above him. One screamed that they could take the stairs down, and they all complied, and Waylon grew desperate.

That was when he heard a chuckle from his side. He looked over, and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. There, prying open the metallic net supposed to keep people from falling down the shaft, was none other than Jeremy Blaire. Bloodied and bruised, but the fucker was standing. Still smug enough to laugh as the metal wielded to him. 

"Waylon Park." Waylon started pulling on his leg again, wanting to run from him. _ He was in hell. He didn't know for what or where he went wrong. But this had to be a punishment. Some sort of special hell with his name on it. _

The slimy bastard stepped onto the elevator, seeing the camera that laid next to Waylon, crushing it beneath his foot, "You haven't given up yet, hm? You know, you really should have listened to me." He kicked down the wood enough to free Waylon's leg, and before he knew it, he was kicked, one rough force against his head. 

Waylon wasn't out, not completely. He caught bits and pieces here and there. Waylon caught on that Jeremy picked him up and carried him down the hallway. The man crossed a corner before he went to open the door and looked down at Waylon again. He heard the patients screaming over the ringing in his ears. When he turned his heavy head, he saw them coming for him. 

"They want you, you know. If I would give you to them, you would die. They would beat you all shades of the rainbow before crushing your bones." he saw Jeremy smile out of the corner of his eye, "It would be quite amusing for me. A good punishment for your betrayal, huh?"

"You say that like there's another option." Waylon forced out, sending Jeremy to chuckle.

"I take you with me. It's the easier option. You would have a better life. I guess you would live to see tomorrow and not die here on the dirty floor of an asylum. You would never get to leave and would be mine, of course."

"Are you giving me a choice?" _ He's putting me between the devil and the deep blue sea, _ he thought. It's death either way. One is just slower and prettier. He would live as one of Jeremy's dolls, silenced and in the background. No one would know he was still alive. Jeremy would probably make it seem as though he died here. 

"Let me go, Jeremy." Waylon pressed out through clenched teeth. He saw Jeremy raise an eyebrow in surprise, an amused smile on his lips.

"So you truly are crazy." With that, Jeremy let him go, Waylon falling onto the ground, realizing upon impact how much pain his body was feeling. He watched as Jeremy walked off through a metallic door, looking at him through the holes, as he locked it behind him, "I'd love to stay and watch, but I have other businesses to take care of."

Waylon swallowed every response that he wanted to spit back at him, but he remembered that he was on a short time window. He had to get up and make a run for it to...anywhere really. Out would be good. But where was out?

He pulled himself up on the door, but as soon as his injured leg tried to hold him, it gave out, and he cried out as he looked down. There was still a significant piece of wood in there. And the blood...he felt nauseous just looking at it. 

He clenched his teeth as he pushed himself off, trying to get away when he collapsed. 

_ This is it. _ That was all he could think about.  _ He was dead _ . Maybe he should have gone with Jeremy. Maybe he could have made it. Maybe he could have even made it work. Jeremy was rich, and he would have had a luxurious life. But he would have been Jeremy's plaything. A doll to dress up. He'd rather die than become that.

And as he felt the ravenous hands pull on his arms and as the legs and various other items hit him, he didn't even have the strength to fight it. His consciousness was leaving him more and more with each hit, and they hit everywhere. His back, his chest, his head, his thighs. 

But just before it became too much, there were pained screams. Waylon felt panic run through the inmates as they scrambled and made a run for it. Waylon could only watch them through his blurry vision. Lying on the ground, bleeding and bruised. 

He heard a bloodied scream before something warm hit him. A warm liquid draining his rags. He only watched, not even realizing or even bothered to check what happened.

The ringing in his ears was growing louder, more prominent as his eyes fluttered shut, the pain numbing him. He looked up and saw his savior, seeing the man mouth something, but the words never reaching Waylon's ears. 

Somewhere in his brain, he recognized him.  _ He knew that face. He knew his savior.  _ But as he was looking for a name to put to it, his eyes fell shut, sending him into a deep, dreamless slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ow!" Waylon pulled his hand away, dropping both needle and cloth on the table before him. He looked down at his finger, seeing how the blood slowly made its way down, " _This is garbage._ " he mumbled under his breath looking around. 

He hated everything about this. About Jeremy finding out about his plan. About now being an inmate at Mount Massive. He wasn't crazy. And yet he sat on the same table as some of the worst people of the country, trying to stitch a flower into a piece of cloth. 

The guard that was supposed to watch them was preoccupied with taking care of another inmate that tried to stab his own eye out of his socket, so he was free to take a break. 

"Again?" he heard a voice beside him chuckle and he sighed. 

"I just...how do you do this?" he wiped the blood on his trousers.

"It is quite easy once you get the hang of it. Besides, I always took an interest in tailoring." Waylon watched how he pulled the needle through the cloth, fastening the thread, before dropping the cloth with a beautiful rose stitched into it onto the table, "Let me see." Waylon complied and showed the man his hand, earning yet another chuckle, "I've seen you do worse. It's gonna be fine."

"Easy for you to say." he put his elbows onto the table and looked over the other inmates. It was to distract, to keep them busy. But he knew what followed this. They were only kept busy until the engine was free again. Until the unit put into there right now was bled dry and no more money was to be made of them.

"Darling, do you want me to show you how you do it without injuring yourself further?"

Waylon sighed, "I have no other choice. So you might as well."

-

Waylon jumped up looking around frantically. His head hurt, no, his whole body hurt. He was laying on a table. There was barely any light, the only light source being the windows. He was pushed back down and his eyes stopped. It really was him. 

Before he could say anything, he cried out in pain again, feeling a needle go through his skin, before the thread fastened. He held onto the edge of the table as though his life depended. 

"I need you to hold still Darling, or else it will rip open and we start all over again. You don't want that, do you?" Waylon blinked away tears but complied, knowing by now that it's best to shut up and take whatever Mount Massive threw at you. After all that happened, he would have never thought he would end up by someone he knew. Someone that didn't try to kill him for once.

After what felt like hours of Waylon fighting to stay conscious, he finally felt how the tailor leaned back, taking a bandage and wrapping it around Waylon's leg, "There. You have to be more careful from now, Darling."

Waylon wiped away his tears and looked at the man, " _Eddie_?"

It was hard not to recognize the man. Even after the Engine. He hadn't seen him after they forced him out of his cell right before they took Waylon himself. He knew how damaging the Engine could be, both mentally and physically. But he never thought he'd see it so up close. The way Eddie's scleras were a deep red, highlighting his blue eyes that looked at him expectantly. The deep gashes broke through his skin, breaking his face and scarring him. _A reminder_.

Without realizing it, Waylon reached out. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he felt guilty, being one of the people that contributed to the suffering of this place. He knew that there were always risks that he put himself and others in. But he never thought it would be so brutal. So bloody.

Jeremy himself told him that they normally don't hire scientists and programmers assigned females at birth, seeing as the Morphogenic engine caused a lot of female staff to have phantom pregnancies which often ended fatally. He had to take the risk to get the money. The fact was, that Murkoff paid well and he just hoped that Lisa was able to pay off both of their debt.

Before his hand reached Eddie's face, however, he was stopped when a strong hand grabbed his wrist. He was snapped back into reality and looked away, "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He saw something in the man's eyes that he couldn't place. Something he saw in the other patients' eyes as well. It was after the Engine. As though it was something...feral. As though the Engine replaced something and turned them back to something deep-rooted. Something edged into our history. The feral instinct of kill or be killed, hunt or be hunted. 

He felt Eddie's grip tightening and he winced, trying to pull his hand away but the man didn't budge. Waylon felt panic bubble up under his skin, his heart racing once more, "Eddie please let go..." he tried to pull away once more, more desperate.

He saw how Eddie's eyes drifted away from him and to a knife, he had laying next to the needle and thread with which he had fixed up his leg. Waylon's thoughts began to race once more. He had felt safe, but was he really? Eddie was changed. The Engine had a toll on everyone that was in it.

Before his hand reached the knife, however, Waylon put his free hand on Eddie's. Gaining the man's attention again, he started to speak, "Eddie hey, it's me. You remember right? We met in the tailoring course and you always helped me because I was hopeless with a needle."

Eddie's hand softened before he let go of Waylon's wrist, "Waylon, was it?"

Waylon smiled, still scared that he would get murdered right there on the table, " _Yes_."

"You always managed to injure yourself one way or another."

"Yeah, I uh...got the scars to prove it." Waylon looked around, clearing his throat to ease himself, "You saved me. From those other patients." he remarked, looking at his bruised body, "Thank you." he looked into Eddie's eyes, seeing the same faint light he always had when helping Waylon once more with his work.

"Oh, it was the natural thing to do. Those idiots would have murdered you, and I could not let that happen. They bruised you, that was already enough of a reason." his fingers softly laid down onto Waylon's bandaged leg, "Do you wish to take a bath, Darling? I had everything ready, but since you were unconscious I did not want to be inappropriate and take advantage of your state." 

"I uhh...sure," he said, one hand going through his hair, feeling it clump with dried blood and feeling disgusted to the core. He was filthy after his chase. He really needed a bath.

Before he could say anything further, he felt how Eddie lifted him up, carrying him with ease. Waylon tensed immediately looking up at the man with wide eyes, before looking away and memorizing where Eddie was going. _Just in case._ He still felt as though he wasn't out of the woods yet. But it was different with Eddie. He seemed as though he snapped out of it. Out of whatever the Engine had made him.

Waylon let Eddie sit him down on the edge of a bathtub. It was a large room with multiple bathtubs and sinks lined on the wall opposite him. He looked around the large room. There was still a faint smell of blood that seemed to follow him. Everywhere was death and blood and he hoped he would get out sooner rather than later.

Waylon saw candles that stood around the tub and the sink, illuminating the room further, "Where have you found all of this?" Waylon gestured to the candles as Eddie walked off into a room and coming out with towels that seemed rather clean for the state the Asylum was in. 

"I had some time to look around. I thought I would make this as pleasant as possible for you, Darling." Waylon's hand dipped into the water, and he was surprised to find it warm. He didn't know there would still be hot water flowing after everything, "I will wait outside and see that no one interrupts you. Do call for me if you need my assistance."

"Will do. Thank you, Eddie." Waylon watched as the man made his way out of the bathing room and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the room. Waylon sighed and waited a little, making sure that he was in the clear before he slowly started to take his dirty rags off. 

He inspected them and saw that they were blood-drenched and smelled even worse than they looked. He put them away in disgust before he slowly stepped into the tub. He always hated taking baths, but right now he just needed an escape. His sore muscles were screaming for the warm water and drowned out all other thoughts.

Once the warm water engulfed him, he sighed a breath of relief and looked at the wall thinking about everything that had happened to him during that day alone. His whole body hurt and stung in the water, reminding him of every injury. But what surprised him more, was that he was still alive. That he somehow managed to find a somewhat friendly face to assist him. 

He thought about Eddie, letting his thoughts roam. He seemed scarily normal for the most part. It seemed as though he snapped into whatever monster Murkoff tried to make him back in that room, but Waylon managed to snap him out of it. Maybe he wasn't lost yet. Or maybe, Waylon was stupid enough to believe it.


	3. Chapter 3

Once the water turned cold and Waylon had somewhat cleaned his body of any remaining dust and blood with a bar of soap that had seen better days, he carefully stepped out of the tub, sitting down on the edge again as he wrapped himself in the towels to dry off. He looked at his disgusting clothes and lifted them up. His pants were still in a relatively good condition (he ignored the blood that had stained one leg) and put his underwear and trousers back on. He looked at his shirt, seeing how most of the blood and dirt seemed to stick to the orange shirt they had placed over it. He just put the grey one over his head, pulled the plug of the tub and took his shirt over his arm, and made his way to leave, which turned out to be a bigger challenge than Waylon had anticipated.

He was unable to put barely any pressure on his injured leg, feeling his whole body protest whenever he did so. He limped his way to the sink, falling against it with a pained groan. Waylon pushed himself up again, taking a deep breath, before he used the sinks as a crutch, seeing as they did assist him. He knew that he could ask for Eddie's assistance, but he was not sure he wanted to risk it. He should be wary for the time being. As long as he didn't know the full picture, he shouldn't start trusting or antagonizing the man. 

When Waylon reached the door, it felt like he had run a marathon for him, he opened it slowly, peaking into the hallway. His heart stopped when he saw that it was empty. He swallowed and decided against calling out for the tailor. He didn't know if he was alone with Eddie. Maybe other patients had found their way there. And he was in no condition to fight or run. He was helpless and he hated it.

Waylon's grip on his shirt tightened before he tied it around his waist, using both of his hands to stabilize himself on the walls of the hallway. He was quiet and listened for any noises. With every creak of the old floorboards, he felt new waves of adrenaline rush his sore muscles. But when he saw nobody, he tried to calm again.

He made decent progress through the hallways, looking around cautiously and taking everything in. If he were to be attacked, he needed to be at least somewhat prepared after all. 

When Waylon found a pair of stairs he looked up cautiously. He already hated just looking up, but having to pull himself up would be even harder. He looked around for other ways he could go, and just when he thought he had no other choice, he found a door. It looked like it was jammed shut but there was light coming from inside. Waylon hated his curiosity and hated himself even more for going over to investigate.

He had a heavy feeling in his stomach. As though he ate too much or nothing at all. A nauseating hollow feeling dragging on his bones to stop walking. But before he could look in through the glass of the door he heard one open behind him and he froze, his pulse shooting up. 

He cursed himself. Cursed everything that put him in that godforsaken place. Everything that had led up to this point.

"Darling? What are you doing here?" he heard Eddie's heavy steps behind him, turning around to look at the tall man.

" _I_ -"

"Were you trying to run away?" his tone seemed different. It was something Waylon had never heard before and he felt all hairs on his arms stand.

"I...no..." Waylon hated not seeing Eddie's eyes in the dark hallway. He hated the way Eddie stalked over to him, his panic gripping him. Waylon swallowed, trying to keep himself calm, to steady his thoughts, "I just...didn't see you and went to look for you."

"You could have just called for me Darling. I would have come to you in an instant. It's simply a crime to let you walk on your own with an injured leg after all." Before Waylon could protest, he was picked up again and he hated how easy it was for Eddie to do so. 

Waylon kept quiet, trying to look into the room as Eddie walked them away and up the stairs.

"W-why did you leave?" Waylon asked after he was sat down in a room again, onto a table. 

"I simply had other matters to attend to. I am terribly sorry to have left without notice." Eddie had walked through the room, which looked like a workshop of some kind. Waylon saw mannequins lined up with cloth stitched to them, obviously resembling early phases of whatever Eddie was designing. It didn't look like he had only been there for a few hours, but days, if not weeks. Waylon swallowed when he saw the heads that were stuck onto the mannequins, their lifeless eyes seeming to look straight through him, "I hope nothing happened while I was gone."

"No, it was alright. Can I ask what you were doing while you were away?" Waylon watched how Eddie holstered a mattress through the doorway, propping in on another one and then another one before he brushed his hands off on his trousers and came walking over to Waylon again.

"That is not your place to worry about Darling." there was a note of a threat in the sentence, or maybe Waylon was imagining it.  _ Stop asking _ , was the blunt statement.  _ It's none of your concern. _ Eddie stopped in front of him, reaching his hands out to assist Waylon with walking, "You deserve to rest for both your mind and soul after everything you went through today. Don't you think so?"

Waylon nodded, evading Eddie's eyes as he let himself be assisted by the man. Once he let himself fall onto the mattress he felt how Eddie kept a hold of his hands, looking at his fingers and turning them over. It would be cute if it weren't for the dangerous look Eddie was giving him.  _ Like Waylon was an animal lined up for slaughter.  _

"Is everything okay?" he asked, trying to pull his hands away.

"Yes." Eddie let go and walked off, back to one of the mannequins, and held up a piece of cloth lying next to it, before fiddling for the needle pressed into the puppet, "You can rest, Darling. I will watch over you, keep you safe."

Waylon decided not to protest, instead, he laid down onto the mattress and watched Eddie work. He felt a tinge of unease, holding his hands close to his chest. He hated being kept in the dark, but maybe it was best if he didn't know. Maybe he should just obey Eddie and survive for as long as possible. Then try to make a run for it once his leg was somewhat able to hold him again. 

But as he watched Eddie work, he felt the sense of familiarity wash over him. How he watched Eddie sew away on the cloth reminded him of their tailoring course and how he had watched him work patterns or flowers into rags. He always made it look so easy, but he had never seemed to judge Waylon for simply being untalented. He always smiled and showed him how it was done again, leading his hand and needle. 

Waylon yawned as he watched Eddie, feeling himself be lulled off into sleep by the consistent hum of the man and the sound of the needle and thread working away.

If there was something off, he had to look into it later. He was in no state to try anything after all. He just had to stop making dumb mistakes and think before he acted.  _ Be smart, but don't overthink, _ was something Lisa had always told him. And as he thought about her and her boys he fell away into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this is relatively short. I just thought that would be a good place to leave it :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there isn't much happening in this one and I'm sorry. I just want to take it slow and really explore this. Also another sorry before you read it, I'm sorry for disappearing like I did. I promise that more regular updates will come back now :)

When Waylon awoke, he felt a sick numb feeling overtake him. He heard his blood rush in his ears and his breathing felt hard and painful. He looked around wearily and realized that he was still in what seemed like Eddie's lair.  _ His territory. _ He looked around more, his foggy mind clearing as the last of his dreamless sleep washed away.

He saw that he was sitting at one table, decorated to look as though there was a breakfast worthy of someone of a much higher standard than Waylon. There was food in front of him and he felt his stomach pain in hunger as he looked at it. It was all stuff out of the personals kitchen. They always had better, more high-quality foods.

When he tried to stand up, he noticed that his legs were bound to the chair he was sitting on and he felt immediate fear take a hold of him. He looked up and saw how Eddie was rounding a corner, his face lighting up when he saw Waylon.

"Good Morning, Darling." Waylon saw how the man wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, which he then put back into his pocket, "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, it's... Alright." Waylon managed a pained smile, "Why did you tie me to the chair?" he asked carefully, afraid to tick Eddie's bad side off again.

He watched Eddie walk past him, feeling his hand brush over his shoulder.

"Because I was afraid that you'd wake before I got back, which you did. And I could not have you wandering around with your injury. I was simply making sure that you were safe." Waylon heard Eddie fumble around behind him before coming back and kneeling down next to him, cutting off the ties that bound him to the chair, looking at his injured leg, "You should eat, I wouldn't want you to collapse on me, Darling."

And with that he walked into the open room next to them, working away at a dress that Waylon noticed he had been working on. Waylon watched him as he started to eat, feeling the hunger overtake him from not being able to eat anything or much at all in the last few days. As he did so, he felt how sore he was from the sprint he had made yesterday. From his mad chase through the asylum.  _ It brought him to safety. _ Waylon still didn't know if he was safe or not, but he took what he could get.

When he had somewhat finished his breakfast, he watched Eddie work on the finishing touches of the dress, "It looks beautiful." came over his lips and he saw how Eddie looked back at him, as though snapped out of a trance, catching him off guard.

"I'm pleased to hear that." Eddie smiled, looking back to the finished dress. It was a beautiful dress, Waylon could say that much. It was flowy and long but didn't reach the ground. It was light-colored and stitched together from scraps, but it was decent nonetheless.

When Eddie put away the needle and thread he came over to Waylon, assisting him in walking over into the man's workspace again, sitting him down on a table once more. Waylon watched him as he paused in front of him, "What is it?" he asked, feeling put on the spot under the man's gaze.

"Was it not obvious? The dress is for you. I cannot let you walk around in those rags for another minute, especially when they are as dirty as they are." Waylon looked at the man, feeling as though he didn't hear correctly.

" _ What? _ " he blurted out, shifting back onto the table a little. It was a nice gesture but.. _.why a dress? Why did he make a dress for Waylon? _ His thoughts spiraled and he felt panic creep its way up his back.

"I made it for you. I realize that you are no woman if that is what you think, Waylon." Waylon met the man's eyes once more at the mention of his name, "I just want you to be able to wear something comfortable, seeing as you should not move much with that injury of yours and thus should be as comfortable as possible in this place." and at that moment he realized that  _ this  _ was Eddie, the real one. The one he met and that always wanted to help Waylon. 

Waylon's eyes shifted back to the dress on the mannequin, which Eddie had moved over into Waylon's reach. Waylon's careful fingers moved over the surprisingly soft fabric, tracing all the fabrics that were worked into it. He had never hated dresses per se. He just hated what people had thought of him whenever he wore one. All the comments and the treatment that followed it. But this was different. This whole scenario was different. 

" _ Alright _ ." he said quietly, "But you need to leave. I...want to change alone please."

Eddie smiled and nodded, taking the dress off the mannequin and laying it next to Waylon, "Simply call for me when you are finished. Then we'll see if it fits you."

Waylon watched the man go, and close the door behind himself. Waylon then looked that he was out of view of the door and eyed the dress again. A simple ribbon held it together in the back, and the loose short sleeves looked like clouds. Waylon took a deep breath before he opened the ribbon in the back and closed his eyes, thinking about what he was doing. 

_ It's just a dress _ , he repeated. _ It's just a dress. It can't harm you. It looks and feel's comfortable. Eddie knows you are no woman, he said so himself. So no worries. _

He took off his shirt, turning his back to the door, before pulling the dress over his head and putting his arms through the sleeves. Once it was on, he carefully opened his eyes and looked down. Its light fabric wasn't tight but just seemed comfortable around his waist. The skirt flowed around his still clothed legs and he smiled. It felt light and comfortable. Nothing like the other dresses he once wore.

He wasn't sure if he should keep his pants on or not and just decided to keep them on, feeling already too exposed even just thinking about it. He held onto the table, feeling the ribbon falling loosely against his bare back. He cleared his throat before he called out for Eddie. 

When he heard the man's steps, he turned even further away, only looking over his shoulder once, "W-would you tie it please? But..."

"But?" Eddie asked, coming closer before he took the ribbon and started to carefully tie it.

"Please don't do it too tight. I want to be able to breathe."

He felt like he could feel Eddie's smile, without seeing it, "Don't worry about it, Darling. I know already. You told me once about how you hated those ghastly rags they gave us. About how they clung to your skin and made you uncomfortable." Waylon felt warm, just knowing that the other man remembered, "That is why I made you this dress. I realized that there was a possibility, which was rather big, that you would not want to wear it. But I hoped that this would be preferable to whatever they were making us wear."

Waylon kept quiet and smiled as Eddie carefully tied the ribbon, before letting it fall and stepping back, looking Waylon over. The man turned in his dress and still didn't meet Eddie's eyes, "So...what do you think about it?" Waylon looked up when he heard the question. 

"It... it's nice, I guess. It's just gonna...take me a while to get used to it. It feels good."

"Not too tight anywhere? I could make changes." 

Waylon smiled, "It's perfect." he looked at the man, only being reminded by the bloody marks and red scleras of the man that he should be cautious. He sounded normal, behaved as normal. Maybe he wasn't gone. Perhaps he didn't have contact with the Engine for long enough to make him completely lose himself. 

"Good, then how about we find something for you to do while I go and wash those rags of yours."


	5. Chapter 5

He bit his lip as he carefully pulled on the thread just like Eddie had shown him. He still had a disdain for sewing, but it was nicer than just sitting around doing nothing. It at least kept his mind busy. Kept him occupied. So, Waylon sat on his bed and tried to form a rose. It looked like one, at least one could guess, and he was somewhat proud of himself. He didn't know what Edie was doing, but he really wanted to heal his leg some more before going around and relieving his curiosity. But it was getting harder to restrain himself every passing minute. Eddie had taken good care of his leg and he was somewhat safe, at least from the other inmates that were left from the initial breakout. It had been a few days and Waylon had seen none of them, which made him suspicious.

But in the one moment, he was letting his thoughts slip, he felt the poking on the needle, going straight into his finger. He pulled away, shaking his hand as he hissed. He just sighed and looked at his finger, as the drop of blood formed.

He had enough of it. His hand hurt and his patience wore thin. Eddie said that he would return shortly, but it felt like he was gone for hours. Waylon dropped the grey cloth with the needle next to him and grabbed for the plank that Eddie had brought him to use as a crutch. If he were to use the bathroom and Eddie was not around to assist, he said. 

He straightened his dress and started to roam the hallways, never really having a chance to look around when Eddie was there. Seeing as he always kept at least one eye on Waylon. He had to use this chance. 

He walked through the hallways, looking into the rooms, seeing blood smeared on the ground and wall. He saw footprints in them and decided to follow them. He walked deeper into the seemingly never-ending chain of rooms that linked into each other, finding more and more blood. When he found his way into a barricaded hallway he stopped, seeing the bloody writing on the wall. 

_ A woman's job is never done _ . 

Waylon swallowed and walked further, his grip on the plank tightening. He had a bad feeling. A feeling that he shouldn't be here. A feeling that he was not welcome there. That Eddie didn't let him go here for a reason. But god damn it, Waylon was curious.

That was when he heard a scream and froze, looking in the direction where it came from. Waylon heard fast steps, hurried screaming for help, and limped to the room in front of him. He didn't go in but looked, "Please  _ someone _ !" he heard and felt his anxiety rise when he saw a man run into the room, bloody and injured. He fell and fought himself up on the table and that was when his eyes met Waylon's and Waylon froze, " _ Please _ ! Help me!"

Waylon didn't know what to do. His eyes were transfixed on the deep gashes along the man's chest, which were bleeding profusely. And that was when Waylon stumbled back, seeing  _ him _ enter the room, "You ungrateful whore. Each and every one of you!" The man screamed in fear as Waylon watched, gasping as he saw how the man's head was grabbed and banged onto the table, time and time again. Until there was blood splattered all over it and the man wasn't moving. 

Waylon fought the urge to vomit and cry and instead just fell against the wall behind himself, pressing his hand against his mouth to stop any noises that would give him away. 

He didn't stay around to figure out if he was seen but instead hurried his way back. Back to safety. Back to where he thought he was safe. Back to where he wouldn't be hurt,  _ right _ ?  _ Eddie  _ wouldn't hurt him, right? He kept him safe.  _ Or so he was told. _

He stumbled back and cried out as he put a little too much pressure on his injured leg and fell on his 'bed'. He pressed himself against the wall, pulling his leg up to look at it, before wiping his tears away with a quick motion.  _ He wasn't supposed to see it. He wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to stay here and heal.  _

Stay  _ safe _ . But...

He held his head in his hands, trying to calm himself. Panic would not help him. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe he was getting overly emotional once more. 

He held his hands in a tight grip.  _ He couldn't let Eddie find out. _ He had to act normal. He had to calm down before he came back.  _ But the blood. The way Eddie smashed the man's head into the table without hesitation. The...gashes on the man's torso. Right on his chest.  _

He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his legs tighter, wanting to curl up and wake up. He forgot how gruesome this place was. He was tempted by the false sense of security that engulfed him. He allowed himself to be tempted into believing Eddie. Eddie was an inmate. And he wasn't falsely put in there like Waylon. 

He killed people. He killed women, Waylon remembered reading his file. And 15 others. Reading about the patients most susceptible for the engine, having to think about how to properly program the code for each and every one of them. 

_ Killing was nothing new to Eddie. But- _

"Darling, I hope you did not..." Waylon froze and looked up, backing against the wall some more, feeling fear take a hold of him. _ Eddie was back _ , "Gosh what happened?" he came closer but Waylon backed into the wall more, looking the man over. Seeing blood splatters here and there, almost as though they were woven into his vest. Waylon didn't say anything, not knowing what to say, "I just wanted to come and check up on you but...I never thought..." he saw how Eddie's eyes trailed over him, "Why don't you tell me what's wrong? I can't help if you won't speak to me."

" _ I _ -" Waylon's heart was beating too loud in his ears and he felt as though he couldn't breathe.  _ He would die. He would. He was oh so sure of it. He was gonna be carved open like the man was. Eddie was going to murder him _ , " _ Please don't. _ .."

Eddie raised an eyebrow and Waylon looked away. He saw it. The dead tint in Eddie's eyes. The Engine working through him. He had seen it, the dead stare. The need to hunt and kill or else you will die. The strong survive and the weak die. The flashing images control you, even Waylon saw them sometimes. And he was in the Engine for a short period. And they still haunted him. 

" _ Darling _ , what happened?" his tone was darker, threatening to spill over.  _ Threatening to- _

"I...I hurt myself. B-by accident. I tripped." he stumbled over his own words, interrupted by soft sobs. 

Eddie smiled and shook his head softly, "My...that's not a reason to ball your beautiful eyes out, now is it, sweetheart. Let me take a look."

Waylon hiccuped as he watched how Eddie brushed his skirt up over his knee, before unwrapping the bandage with the same hands that he used to kill that other inmate. The same hand that now oh so tenderly took care of his injury was the reason for someone's death. 

"It looks alright. You just have to be careful. And don't wander around too much, I wouldn't want you to get hurt." Eddie wrapped his injury up again, leaving his hand on Waylon's leg,  _ lingering _ . Waylon felt a lump in his throat.

"Eddie-" he cut in, feeling how the man's grip tightened before he let go, caressing his bandage again, "You...were gone for a while."

"I had important business to attend to, Darling. You would not understand it. I don't expect you to. Let me worry about it."

"I..." he bit his cheeks, wiping away the last of his tears, "...I was worried for you, actually," he said, hoping to get more information out of the man. Waylon felt some tension fall as he forced himself to relax.

He saw how Eddie looked back at him, and Waylon felt a chill go up his spine, " _ Really _ ?"

"Y-yeah. I got worried for you...I know that it can be dangerous and was worried you had gotten injured." he looked down onto his hands, which he wrung in his lap, "I would have been here,  _ vulnerable _ . I...got scared so I went to look for you and tripped." he had to get the man to say something.  _ He had to find out more. He had to play this damsel in distress because he saw how Eddie took care of him when he did. He did not want to end up dead after all. _

Eddie reached for one of Waylon's hands, taking it into his own. Waylon could see the blood under the man's nails. But the way he held his fingers, the way he traced them with his own in an oh so tender way...He could not believe it. How the man went from sweet to deadly. How one misstep would get him killed, "I am sorry. I never meant to worry you and the idea of you getting hurt  _ because _ ..." he looked off, holding Waylon's hand tighter, "I will be sure to avoid it from now. I will stay here with you until you are in a condition to walk again. I will not venture far, that is a promise." he leaned down and placed a soft kiss into Waylon's palm and the man felt himself blush, looking away.  _ How was a deadly murder machine on his knees, handling him like a divine being when he could just as easily break his fingers or his neck. Murder him. _

"I will hold you to that." he choked out. He had to find out what was going on. He had to know what was going on with Eddie. He had to know this problem to fix it.


	6. Chapter 6

" _ So _ ..." Waylon started, putting the book that he had found down. Eddie turned around to him, leaning against the table next to the 'bed', "How did you get here? After everything went down?" Waylon had wondered for a while but he didn't know when to ask. He was afraid it would tick him off. And he didn't know how to ask.

"I don't know." Eddie looked off, it seemed as though he wasn't focusing on anything, before he seemed to look through Waylon, "I remember... _ them _ putting me in the Engine." Waylon saw how Eddie gripped the desk tighter, his knuckles turning white, "I got out, somehow. I don't know what brought me here. Maybe I just...felt the most comfortable up here." he looked around, "My paradise. My piece of heaven." he looked at Waylon again, "With an angel by my side."

Waylon blinked and looked away at the compliment, "S-So you...don't remember?"

"I don't know. I was conscious. I just....felt as though I was carried here by my own feet.  _ Something _ ..." he gestured with his hand before he crossed his arms over his chest, "...or anything dragged me here. I did not question it and just accepted it. If that makes sense."

It didn't. At least not to Waylon. But it seemed as though Edie was thoroughly lost thinking about it, not questioning it up until now that Waylon asked. 

"Do you see them too?" Eddie asked, looking at the wall, "Those horrid images and...shapes." his eyes landed on Waylon again and the man swallowed.

"Sometimes. I wasn't in the Engine for long so...I don't know."

Eddie nodded, his hand coming up. He seemed sane, like himself, "Sometimes I see them clearly, obscuring my vision. And I let it. It gets stronger whenever I'm out of here." he gestured around their room, "When I venture too far from it, the ringing is deafening. Do you hear it too, Darling?"

Waylon shook his head, looking at the man and hanging onto Eddie's every word.  _ So he knows. He knows what the Engine did to him. He realizes that it changed him.  _

Waylon thought as he watched how Eddie raised his hand to his face, to the deep gashes, " _ Does it hurt? _ " he asked quietly, and Eddie shook his head.

"No. Well sometimes, but it mostly just feels numb." Waylon reached out again, just like after he had woken up. After Eddie had saved him. He traced over the wounds with careful fingers and gulped under Eddie's gaze. He didn't know how to interpret it, but seeing as he was still alive he took it as not bad.

"Can you feel that?" he traced the gashes, feather-light touches tracing from the man's jawline to his cheekbone.

"I can actually." Eddie leaned into the touch and Waylon smiled without even realizing it. That was when Eddie took Waylon's hand into his again, and Waylon was scared for a second. But he only saw how Eddie looked at his fingers, tracing them and turning his hand to inspect it, "Your hands are so soft." 

" _ Thank you? _ " Waylon didn't know how to react to that. No one had ever complimented his hands. He watched as Eddie looked at his fingers. His hands were rough and calloused, from years of tailoring.  _ And killing.  _ Waylon reminded himself and his hand twitched, earning him a questioning look.

"Did I hurt you?"

" _ N-no _ ...I'm alright."

Eddie still dropped Waylon's hand again and stood up, rolling his shoulders and making his joints pop. Waylon watched him, "I will be right back." Eddie then said without looking at Waylon, walking out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Waylon asked, but didn't get an answer. Waylon furrowed his brows and grabbed the plank, holstering himself up onto his wobbly legs, set out to follow the man. He told him, no, he promised Waylon that he would not go off again. That he would stay with him.  _ It had only been a day, had Eddie already forgotten? _

Waylon hadn't. He hadn't forgotten the blood. The man. The murder.

" _ Eddie _ , wait!" he called out as he limped behind the man. He was quick and Waylon had trouble keeping up with him. _ Was he concerned? Was he scared? Who was he scared for? _

Waylon had to take a break, as his leg acted up again and his arms hurt from carrying him on the plank. He watched where Eddie went and called out again, but the man still did not stop.

Only now did Waylon look around.  _ He didn't know where he was _ . It was still the vocational block. But he was lost. He wouldn't be able to find his way back. He simply followed Eddie, which he only now realized was a fatal mistake. 

Waylon set out again, walking slowly and carefully, his heart racing. He saw blood again. It seemed smeared on the ground and Waylon cursed himself again. He would get himself killed. 

He saw the images from yesterday flash in his mind, already feeling Eddie's hand in his hair as he shoved his head against the nearest table, splattering his brain across it. A shudder went through Waylon, just thinking about it.

He stopped, almost falling, as something hit the ground before his feet. He had just rounded the corner into a dark room, smelling the overwhelming scent of blood. He gagged and coughed, raising one hand to his mouth and nose, looking around. 

He felt like he was going to vomit. He didn't know what to focus on first. The lockers? The bodies hanging from the wall? The blood which seemed to cover everything? The table? The... _ table. _ .. 

His eyes stopped on it, seeing the blood-covered saw. Eddie wasn't here and Waylon still felt panicked. As though he was being watched out of the shadows. He looked around when he saw a pair of eyes look back at him out of the shadows. 

He gasped as the person rushed at him, the plank falling out of his hand. He felt a hand grip his neck, lifting him up and pushing him until he felt the table against his lower back, " _ You are not him! Where is he? Tell me! _ "

Waylon clawed at the man's wrist, kicking him, wanting to aim for his crotch, but he only saw a cut, sewn shut. He kicked against the man's torso, "I don't know! Who are you talking about!"

" _ The Groom _ !" and that was when the patient eyed him up and down with a ghastly laugh, "Seems he found his bride! You are quite the sight." Waylon felt disgusted, gasping for air as the patient's grip tightened. He saw how the man grabbed for something, he guessed it was a knife. 

But before he felt the blade, he felt how the man let go of him, Waylon falling to the ground as he held his neck, gasping for air and coughing. He looked up, seeing that Eddie had punched the man, who was holding his bleeding nose. But the patient flung the knife at Eddie, getting his arm and cutting deep. Waylon felt it hitting him in warm drops, flowing quickly down the man's arm. It ruined his dress, staining it red.

Eddie grabbed the man and pushed his face into the saw on the table and Waylon looked away. He felt concern grip him. He pulled himself up on the table, "Eddie you are hurt!" he saw the deep cut that grazed Eddie's forearm. 

Eddie lunged at him and Waylon forgot it.  _ Forgot his own safety. Forgot himself. _ He felt how the back of his head hit the desk roughly and he groaned in pain, as Eddie pushed his head to face the table sideways, his cheek stained in blood, "Don't worry darling, I will make you beautiful."


	7. Chapter 7

Waylon felt tears sting and burn in his eyes, as his hands fought to try and keep Eddie's hands off. The man pushed his face hard against the table and Waylon tried to roll or wiggle away and out of the man's grip, "Your struggle is in wain, doll. Can't you see that I will make you whole?"

" _ Eddie snap out of it _ !" he screamed back. The blood of Eddie's wounded arm had soaked his dress completely, marking it up. It had already dried in certain parts, making the fabric stiff and rough. It clung to Waylon and he hated it.

Waylon grabbed Eddie's hand, which tried to cut his dress open with the knife, and fought to keep him off. His muscles were screaming out in pain but Waylon didn't care, " _ Eddie  _ please! It's me, Waylon!  _ Please  _ don't-" he was cut off when he felt the tip of the knife poke his stomach through the dress, crying out in fear, "Eddie you are  _ hurting  _ me!  _ Please stop! _ "

He saw how Eddie stopped, but the knife was still dangerously close to cutting him open like a turkey on thanksgiving. Waylon continued to cry, as his body shook along, " _ P-Please stop. Please _ ."

That was when the knife fell onto the table next to him and he let go of Waylon's face. Waylon instead heard a pained groan and saw how Eddie held his arm, swaying dangerously. His pained eyes were still on Waylon though, "Have I hurt you, Darling?" he was watching him with concern, "I am... I am so sorry Waylon, dear. I... I never-"

"Get away from me... _ Please _ ." Waylon pulled his legs to his chest, curling up and away from Eddie. He grabbed for the knife and held it pointed at Eddie as a warning, " _ Get away _ !" he said more forcefully, to which the man complied. Waylon wiped away his tears and sat up, looking around the room, "What...what is this?" Eddie kept quiet, holding his arm, looking away. It seemed like he looked through everything, eyes focused on something out of reach. The blood was still dripping, though it wasn't as quick anymore. But Eddie looked paler than normal, and Waylon was sure that he lost too much blood to be standing like he did, "What happened here? What...happened to you?!" Waylon asked, getting no answer.

Eddie seemed to focus on Waylon again and Waylon shifted back some more, the knife pointed at the man.  _ He didn't know if he were able to hurt Eddie. He wasn't sure he was able to hurt anyone, if not in self-defense.  _

" _ Have I hurt you _ ?" his voice was quiet, almost sheepish. _ Like a scared child.  _

Waylon took a deep breath and looked down. All the blood that was on him was from Eddie. The knife hadn't cut into his stomach and his grip was probably the only thing to have made a lasting bruise on his face. And he had a headache. His throat also hurt, but that wasn't Eddie, that was the other patient, "You almost did. You haven't answered my questions."

Eddie looked away, before looking down and leaning to pick up the plank that Waylon used as a crutch, "It's not safe here Darling. We should go back."

Waylon furrowed his brows as Eddie walked closer, steps dragging and body sluggish, "Why? It seems like  _ you  _ are the only real danger around."

Eddie looked into his eyes, "Exactly. So come on." 

Waylon's eyes widened as he looked at the man and saw how he slowly made his way to leave, "Eddie,  _ wait _ ." he looked down onto his ruined dress, as he felt Eddie look back at him. He cut a piece of his skirt off, ripping a large piece away, before making a gesture for Eddie to back to him, "You don't do anything or I will stab you." Eddie nodded, as Waylon brushed the man's hand aside and then wrapped the piece of cloth around the man's cut as best as he could, "Keep putting pressure on it. I'll take a proper look at it when we are back."

The walk back was quiet and Waylon insisted on keeping the knife and walking behind Eddie. Waylon looked around anxiously at every noise, fearing that another mutilated inmate would come to attack them. But it never was. 

Once they were back, Waylon could practically feel how Eddie relaxed a little as he sat down, laying his arm down on a table and taking off the makeshift bandage carefully. Waylon saw how the man was slowly but surely losing consciousness and he had to act fast. He looked down at the wound, "I think we have to stitch it up." he said, more to himself than anything.

"My supplies are over there." he went to stand up, but Waylon pushed him back down.

"Don't move." and Eddie complied. Waylon didn't know why. Even in that state, he could easily overpower Waylon.  _ Maybe because he had a weapon? Or maybe he didn't want a fight in his state _ , "I will get some water to clean it. Try to hold it together until I'm back. And no stunts, or else."

"I can't possibly let you go and get-"

"Stay. Here." Waylon simply said, already making his way towards the bathroom. That was where he drenched a few towels in water and then hurried back, seeing how Eddie really did stay where he was supposed to. 

Waylon laid the towels down, while Eddie took one and carefully pressed down. Waylon made his way to get Eddie's sewing supplies. There was medical thread amongst the many that he had harvested, and Waylon hurried back over to the man, sitting down opposite him.

He took Eddie's arm in careful fingers, pressing the wet towel against the cut with force, and Eddie winced through clenched teeth. Waylon's heart started racing, but when Eddie didn't move, he relaxed again. He had grabbed some disinfectant, and carefully put some on one of the wet towels, and then took to cleaning Eddie's wound. The man made pained gasps and whines here and there, but his arm didn't move in the slightest.

It was when it came to the stitching when Waylon felt anxiety grip him. He didn't know and care what gave him away to Eddie, whether it was his nervous sweating or his shaking hands as he tried to get the thread into the needle, but Eddie noticed, "I can do it, you don't have to."

"I'm not letting you give yourself stitches Eddie. I can do it."

"It's different to cloth, believe me."

"Oh, I do." Waylon said, his jaw clenched as he remembered the mutilated patient, "You seem to have a lot of experience with that. Do you mind answering my questions now?"

"I would rather you try and stitch first. If not, I can take over. Wouldn't be the first time." Waylon took a deep breath before he tried to steady himself for it, "It's the same technique, Darling. Just...harder to pull off." Waylon didn't know if he could do it.  _ What if he did it wrong? What if he only further injured the man? _ "You can do it, Darling. Don't worry about it."

And that was when he pushed the needle through, his hands shaking hard, as he worked fast and pulled it through, fastening it. He couldn't hear anything but his blood rush in his ears, as he worked away on the man's arm. He felt tears sting in his eyes, a nervous habit. 

It was only when he finally reached the end, tied a knot, and cut off the thread that he let the needle fall, leaning back and taking his head in his hands.  _ He did it. He had done it. Somehow. _

After a few minutes, he looked back at Eddie, who traced the stitches, inspecting them with tired eyes, "A better job than on the cloth. Seems you're a natural, Darling."

"I..." he bit his tongue as he closed his eyes, "I don't  _ ever  _ want to do this again. I'd rather you have me perfect it on some cloth. Besides, I think I need a new dress huh? The perfect opportunity." Eddie smiled a weak smile, when his brows furrowed and looked at the bloody dress, "You owe me an explanation or two, Eddie. And an apology."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No proof reading on this, we die like men. Also I really love reading all of your comments on this story! It really does motivate me to keep going with this and explore more of these characters and the story im going for and all that. So thank you.
> 
> (I also don't know how long this is. I just wrote this on my phone quite quick and I hope you still like it :))

* * *

Eddie sighed, looking down at his hands, before looking up at Waylon again. It felt as though sorrow was edged into his skin, dropping off heavily, "I am terribly sorry for all of this, Darling. I... I never..." it seemed as though his eyes focused on the heavy bruises that decorated Waylon neck. A handprint edged into it, leaving purple angry marks. Eddie sighed again, slowly reaching up, aiming for Waylon neck.

The man in question froze, his hand tightening around the knife which he had in his hands on the desk, needing something to hold on to. Eddie stopped shortly before touching Waylon neck, waiting for a reaction, and when none came he softly traced the marks, eyes full of pain as though he felt the impact of it himself.

Waylon swallowed, breathing fast. Eddie's touch was soft, only tracing his skin with feather light fingers. It hurt, but only a little, and because the bruises were fresh, " _This wasn't you, Eddie._ " he said quietly, Eddie still fixated on the bruises.

"But it was." he looked up, meeting Waylon eyes again, "He was rightfully angry at me and let it out on you. I may not have caused these injuries myself, but I am still responsible for them. If he were to have seriously injured you..." he trailed off, fingers resting on Waylons sensitive skin.

"He didn't. You saved me. Why?" Waylons felt himself shaking, and he didn't know why.

"I don't know. It seemed as though for a moment... That I could see _clearly_. And I saw him hurt you, and I had to save you Darling. Nothing could keep me from that."

"But... Why did you attack me afterwards?" Waylons voice trembled on that question, afraid that Eddie's fingers would close around his neck, that he would grip him like he had done earlier and finish what he started.

Eddie noticed this discomfort and immediately retreated, resting his hands on the table, " _It_ took over again when I killed him. And the injury, the pain... It contributed to my loss of control. If you now don't trust me anymore, I will understand. Although it would pain me, you can _always_ leave Darling. I would never forgive myself for losing myself again and..."

Waylon met the man's eyes. _He had considered leaving. He did. All he wanted was to run. To escape this horrid place. To escape the nightmares. The blood. The murder._

_But he wouldn't make it far in his state. He was reliant on Eddie. On Eddie's protection. He had to take the risk. And Eddie..._

"I won't leave. Not yet." Eddie's eyes widened at that in surprise, "I might fear you when you lose control, but right now and when we are here, you are not that. You are not the monster that _Murkoff_ wanted to make you. You haven't hurt me Eddie, and I trust that you won't while we are here. If you make a misstep, I will not hesitate to stab you and run. If I feel like you are threatening me, I will call you out and if you won't stop I will take measures into my hands."

"How can you trust me after what I did, Darling?"

"Call me naive, but I feel like I can trust you. I feel like I know you, from the time we spent together before the Engine. I'm not ready to give up on you yet. I am willing to give you a chance, to help you, just like you helped me. Perhaps we could even make it through this. I managed to snap you out of it. Back to control. That just showed me that you aren't lost, that you aren't like the rest of them yet."

"I will try for you Darling. _Whatever_ it takes."

Waylon smiled, "Just promise me, that you won't go off again. That you stay here with me, and only leave with me and tell me where we are going."

"I promise you, Darling."

It seemed weird to see the man sleep. He hadn't yet, in all the time Waylon was there with Eddie. Perhaps the man did so when Waylon was asleep, maybe he didn't even sleep before this. But now he did, exhausted from his injury. Waylon sat on the desk, looking over sketches that Eddie had made of new dresses for Waylon. He had promised to keep watch and alert Eddie if anything seemed out of the ordinary. But he also insisted on Eddie getting rest. To heal.

But now Waylon realised how disgusting he felt in his bloody dress. How it was stiff and hard against his skin. Rubbing uncomfortably with every motion.

He got up, finding his clothes that he wore during the collapse and saw that they were washed. There were only little traces that showed the blood that was on them, but other than that they were clean. So he grabbed them and made his way to the bathroom letting a bath in for himself.

He would only make it short and seeing as he was growing more and more uncomfortable in the stiff fabric he was wearing he saw no other choice. The water was still warm, and Waylon had gotten used to the slight decoration of it, so he got rid of his dress and threw it away and just stepped in, cleaning himself off.

He was listening intently for danger or any other sounds that would mean that there was a threat, but he heard none. So when he was clean of blood and dirt, he got out and dried fast, before getting into his pants and shirt again. He looked at himself in the mirror, going through his hair with one hand. The bruises looked bad, and they slowly started to hurt more. But other than that he was fine. He had somewhat figured out how to deal with his leg, so that wasn't as big of a problem any more. 

He went back and looked around seeing that everything seemed to be alright. Eddie was still sleeping, although his brows were drawn together. Waylon just smiled and looked around the room, trying to find something to entertain himself with as he waited for the other man to wake up again. 


End file.
